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i was playing chaos marines . here hope u like it...
A fell wind blew over the battlefield, ruffling the tattered banners of the Space Wolves. Beneath them Lord Ragi
Frostbeard, veteran of countless battles and ferocious master of warfare, sat in Council. His twin wolves, Tooth and
Fang, hunched growling at his side. Opposite him the mighty master Run’al of the Long Fangs sat, offering advice
and to his left the Grey Hunter pack leader Njord crouched down, his huge muscular form obscuring the feeble light.
But even he was dwarfed by the massive form stomping towards them. The ground shook at the tread of Grimnir the
Ancient, revered dreadnought, honed by two thousand years of service to the Fang and the Emperor.
‘Your council, Ancient?’ Ragi demanded.
The vox-speakers on the construct crackled to life as Grimnir spoke, ‘The chaos scum approach from the rear now.
Destroy them or the city will be lost.’
‘You speak truly, revered one. Shall we divert the Catachan 22nd?’ Questioned Run’al.
‘NO! The traitor marines are of the Burning Legion! They worship the Pain and the Fire! Rumour is that they are led
by a mighty daemon prince! We must deal with them personally!’
‘You are right! We go ourselves. The weakling humans will have to manage in our stead,’ Ragi snarled.
‘Pray they do,’ grunted Njord, ‘This city must hold, or our plans for the safety of this world are done.’
‘Yes.’ Crackled the vox, ‘Pray they do.’
The beast that had once been Chaos Lord Doomhelm smiled, daemonic features curling back to reveal long, feral
incisors. ‘So the Sons of Russ dare oppose me themselves? Their pain shall serve only as further praise for
Mel’kihor, the Flame!’
The captured wolf scout spat defiance at the Avatar that had slaughtered his blood-brothers. ‘You will never defeat
us, traitor! The Emperor protects.’
Doomhelm unsheathed his mighty blade, tall as a man, with warp energies crackling along its length. ‘You will be of
no further use to me, scum, but I am sure that you will be of use to my Sorcerors. Such prisoners are useful...
experiments. Take him away!’
As the unfortunate scout was dragged roaring from the room, Doomhelm leapt, mighty daemonic wings unfolding
to bear his massive form aloft. At full height he dwarfed even the dreadnought.
‘COME BROTHERS! THE TIME OF CHAOS HAS COME!’
A weak light filtered through the clouds as the two armies met. Doomhelm’s Burning Legion had dug into a tall
concrete ruin and their banners whipped through the air, leaving dark trails in their wake. Despite the dreadnought’s
council the loyalists had been put on the back foot, settling for a mess hall in the militia quarters on the edge of the
Run’al surveyed the battlefield, noting the fire plan his Long Fangs would set up. The chaos force looked
unerringly small - no doubt there were more of them concealed among the ruins. His Lord and his Bloodclaw retinue
advanced stealthily among the ruins before the chaos lines, while Njord’s Grey Hunters circled to his left. Grimnir
the Ancient towered amongst the rubble, shunting boulders aside as he stomped relentlessly up the right flank.
Run’al’s audio crackled as Ragi’s harsh growl filtered across the vox, ‘Run’al! Target sighted! Fire at will!’
The Long Fangs let rip with their plasma cannons.
Doomhelm crouched behind the mighty ruins, obscured behind their bulk. The foolish Sons of Russ were
oblivious to his presence and stupidly continued their advance on his Marines. The relentless pounding of the big
guns filled the air as his havocs bombarded the enemy shock troops. They were falling like flies and soon their lord
would be unaccompanied. He relished facing such a worthy opponent - his soul would be a worthy sacrifice to
Ragi Frostbeard marched on, his sheer determination epitomising his chapter as the last few bloodclaws fell to the
chaos fire. His eyes burned with righteous rage as he roared defiance at the chaos lines, his twin wolves howling
ominously. ‘Face me, cowards! Traitor scum! Is there not one among you who would fight me one to one?’
There was a roar from the chaos lines. Ragi looked upon Doomhelm’s bestial features as the 11’ daemon prince
leapt from his position, massive wings unfurling to bear him towards the challenger.
The clash between man and monster began...
Doomhelm landed with a heavy thud, shaking the ground and caught his balance as Ragi circled warily, twin
wolves at his heel. Sparing the festivities he charged, massive blade cleaving the two wolves apart in mid air. Ragi
dodged just in time and swung a punch at the lord with his mighty powerfist. The Beast parried, forcing his gauntlet
down and then, as Frostbeard recovered from the shock, cannoned over the weapons, goring Ragi with his massive
horns. As the body of the lord slid down his left horn, still gasping for breath from broken lungs, Doomhelm tossed
his head in comtempt, sending the corpse flying.
Run’al watched in horror as the daemon prince turned to face his Long Fangs, a feral smile playing across its
blackened lips. Things were looking bad. Njord was stubbornly struggling on, trying to reach the building where the
taunts and fire of the chaos scum echoed from. He gasped as he saw Grimnir the Ancient fall, finally meeting his
match at the hands of the Havocs. There would be no victory for Russ’ children here, only death and destruction.
‘All Long Fangs fire on the daemon prince!’ He bellowed. If they were to fall then they would take that accursed
mutant scum with them.
The plasma cannons of the Long Fangs impacted on some unnatural surface, failing to penetrate. The heavy bolter
failed, impacting on the Thing’s armour. The lascannon got through, only for the wound to knit back together again.
But Run’al’s meltagun succeded, leaving a patch of its armour twisted and melted. The creature roared in pain and
anger, daemonic wings unfurling, and then it was upon them.
Doomhelm launched himself at the puny loyalists, decapitating them with great swipes of his blade. Their leader
struck feeble blows to him, but he was just a mere amusement, incapable of inflicting any real pain. As Run’al leapt
from the building, dropping his melta in his sheer terror, the Beast Incarnate laughed, the sounds
of his amusement echoing across the battlefield.
The last imperial defenders didn’t stand a chance.
Alright battle or not? Whadya think?
PS sorry about last battle my m8 darkintention didnt add 2 it and he was writing up 1 half. someone delete it please.